


i want that sugar sweet

by maureenbrown



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunter Chronicles - All Media Types, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Bad Cooking, Baking, Cookies, Established Relationship, F/F, Femslash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-11
Updated: 2016-08-11
Packaged: 2018-08-08 05:13:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7744675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maureenbrown/pseuds/maureenbrown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Alright, Isabelle? Think you’re ready for chocolate chip cookies?” Maureen asks teasingly, a glint of amusement in her dark brown eyes, her thin lips curving into a smirk. “This might be too hard just yet.”</p><p>“Be quiet, Maureen. I can bake something as simple as these.” Isabelle scoffs, leaning forward to flick her girlfriend’s forehead and giving her a mock glare. The other giggles quietly, hopping on top of the counter gracefully.</p>
            </blockquote>





	i want that sugar sweet

**Author's Note:**

> i had to look up how to make chocolate chip cookies .. rip me. the title is from a maroon 5 song !  
> my tumblr is @newtslizzy

“Alright, Isabelle? Think you’re ready for chocolate chip cookies?” Maureen asks teasingly, a glint of amusement in her dark brown eyes, her thin lips curving into a smirk. “This might be too hard just yet.”

“Be quiet, Maureen. I can bake something as simple as these.” Isabelle scoffs, leaning forward to flick her girlfriend’s forehead and giving her a mock glare. The other giggles quietly, hopping on top of the counter gracefully.  
Isabelle reaches forward to smack her leg gently. “Hey, get your butt off the table! We’re going to be baking!”

“We?” Maureen asks, eyebrows raised, but she does settle down next to Isabelle.

“We.” Isabelle echoes, obviously trying not to look cocky. “That is, unless you don’t want some of the cookies.”

Maureen weighs her options visibly, drumming her perfectly manicured nails across the counter (courtesy of Isabelle’s skills), eventually sighing once. “Alright. We.”

Isabelle hops up and down on the balls of feet where she balances expertly on lengthy heels, successfully not teetering to the side as she claps her hands together childishly. “Perfect! Can you start getting the ingredients, babe?”

Maureen’s expression softens at the nickname, per usual. “And those are?” She asks, but she opens a couple cupboards to prepare.

Isabelle leans across the counter to retrieve the note she wrote herself, her handwriting loopy and cursive, the example of elegance. “Butter, sugar, flour, baking soda, salt, and chocolate chips. Those are all the dry ingredients.” She reads off, while Maureen starts stacking the fixings in her hands, repeating it underneath her breath so she doesn’t forget.

Isabelle passes by her expertly, brushing across her arm, tattooed skin against bare. She whisks past the refrigerator, retrieving a couple eggs before going on tip toes to look in the other cupboard for vanilla extract.

Maureen lets the objects clatter to the counter ungracefully, looking proud of herself. There’s a bit of flour smeared on her cheek, and Isabelle holds down a giggle; they haven’t even started baking yet! Truthfully, she’s just glad she didn’t ask Maureen to bring back the eggs.

“Got everything. What do we do now?” Maureen asks, brushing some of the flour off of her hands, a cloud of it bursting into the air which she waves away.

“You don’t even know what to do? You were making fun of me, Maureen!” Isabelle shrieks, but she sounds vaguely pleased.

Maureen huffs quietly and glances away. “Not all recipes are the same.” She excuses, and Isabelle rolls her eyes.

“Preheat the oven to 350 degrees, it says.” Isabelle says, reaching back to look at the slip of paper, Maureen twirling over to the oven before she hardly finishes her sentence.

“I’m going to start on the ingredients, love.” Isabelle calls over her shoulder, hearing an affirming noise while the other girl pulls out a pan.

“Hey, look, Izzy!” Maureen calls, and Isabelle glances over her shoulder as she starts to pour some flour into a bowl, not checking to measure how much.

“Yes?” She asks, raising an eyebrow.

“It’s you!” Maureen asks, holding the pan above her head, and Isabelle lets a rush of air through her lips, holding back most of her dry laughter.

“Creative, Maureen. Really.” Isabelle drawls, and Maureen pouts over at her, setting it on the counter as loudly as she did earlier and surging forward to scoop her arms around her waist and pull her back against her body.

“Come on, Isabelle. That was totally funny.” Maureen mumbles against her girlfriend’s shoulder, giggling once again as she kisses her there a couple times, thankfully not leaving as many lipstick marks as the other does.

“I’ve heard that one before, and it wasn’t even about me.” Isabelle sighs, allowing herself to relax against Maureen.

Maureen hums skeptically, trailing fleeting kisses that border teasing up Isabelle’s neck to her jaw, pulling away enough to see her. “Must be Simon.”

“It was.” Isabelle affirms, and Maureen’s teeth just graze her chin as she laughs, her body leaning further into hers.

“You know we have to get baking eventually, right?” Isabelle asks, though she lets her head tip back and fall against Maureen’s shoulder.

“What if we just gave up and cuddled for an hour?” Maureen suggests instead, earning a stern look from her girlfriend. She exhales, then relents, stepping back after one more uncoordinated kiss to the corner of Isabelle’s lips.

“I’ll start with the butter and sugar.” Maureen says, and Isabelle’s nose scrunches up adorably.

“Good.” She agrees, turning to capture a couple bowls, sliding one across the counter. Maureen catches it instantly.

Isabelle sets to work adding chocolate chips haphazardly into the bowl, while Maureen measures each ingredient carefully. They switch dishes every now and then, Maureen stirring eggs together and adding vanilla while Isabelle warms up some water and salt. They pour all of the components together eventually, creating a hodgepodge of a messy substance, and Isabelle attempts to stir the thickness out of it.

“Is it supposed to be like this, Iz?” Maureen asks, hovering over her shoulder on tip toes to look at the oddly colored cookie batter.

Isabelle doesn’t answer for a moment, making a noise that could be positive or negative. Maureen drops the subject.

“Want to taste?” Isabelle asks, sticking a thin finger into the batter and offering it to Maureen’s mouth.

Maureen hesitates; she can’t be rude, but this is also an uncooked, possibly lethal treat. She waits too long, and Isabelle ends up giving a scoffing noise before licking it off herself.

“Baby.” Isabelle says, and Maureen’s pretty sure it’s not a nickname.

“They’ll taste better when they’re cooked.” Maureen responds, but it’s clear both she and Isabelle don’t really believe that.

“Sure.” Isabelle agrees regardless, stepping away only to snatch up a spoon, starting to scoop dollops of the batter out onto the cookie pan, Maureen rushing to helpfully hold it down for her.

It doesn’t take nearly as long as the preparation for it did, Isabelle splattering chips and dough everywhere and calling it even before shoving it into the oven without so much as protection from gloves. She slips her fingertips through the belt loops of Maureen’s jeans after programming the oven for ten minutes, dragging her over to the couch and pulling her so that she falls on top of her.

Maureen hovers carefully, straddling her waist so she doesn’t lean too much weight on Isabelle, though she’s far from delicate.

“God, that’s tiring.” Isabelle complains, pushing her hair away from her face and letting it fan across the pillows.

Maureen hardly holds back a snort, rolling her eyes once. “You train all the time and you’re tired by baking?”

“Hey, baking is hard! You’re not much better than me, Maureen.” Isabelle purses her lips, causing it to be Maureen’s main focus.

“Mm. Sure.” Maureen barely gets out before Isabelle sits up, nearly bashing their foreheads together but in the end properly slotting their lips together. The kiss is slow, and both of them end up giggling, and Maureen’s positive that Isabelle will get her signature red lipstick slathered all over her mouth (not that she cares, it just shows that she’s Izzy’s).

They kiss even past the timer, the incessant beeping somewhat drowned out by the hums that Isabelle makes, laying down on the couch as her fingertips crawl up and down Maureen’s back, shivers following her touch.

“Cookies, babe.” Isabelle says finally, her voice breathless while Maureen grudgingly pulls away with a muttered and somewhat giddy “right.” Kissing Isabelle is exhilarating, one thing she’ll never get tired of. Plus, Isabelle tastes vaguely of sugar.

They end up lazing on the couch, the cookies forgotten. They were charred beyond edibleness, Isabelle briefly chewing Maureen out for kissing her for an extra fifteen minutes instead of their designated two. Isabelle finishes finally, piling her legs in Maureen’s lap as they shove store-bought cookies into their mouth at an alarming speed, Maureen always talking with her mouth full.

“You know, this is a lot less work.” Maureen mumbles, crumbs dropping as she points at the Chips Ahoy box on the couch.

Isabelle fidgets before nodding, which is as close as she’ll get to saying she had a bad idea.

Maureen proudly leans over, pecking her lips once more. “I had fun.”

“So did I.”


End file.
